| I do it for the
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| Thug niggas and bitches off in my neighborhood
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| Bout to hit that pop with that product, make sure ya paper good
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| Statistics ain’t in my favor, but I’mma make it through it
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| Don’t work no job, man a nigga can’t even get insurance
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| How you supposed to take ya babies on a doctor visit?
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| These conditions validate my excuse for this type of living
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| Gotta watch these cops cause I’m pushing poison like Michael Bivins
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| Running in your spot where you have them chickens is my religion
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| The Stick Up Man, so cut me in or cut it out, bitch
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| Quick to walk my dog up to your doorstep if you doubt this
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| Bury me with Swishers and at least an ounce to bounce with
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| Corporate Thuggin Mafia, you bout that life, or you ain’t bout shit
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| Picture me rolling that brand new Ferrari California
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| And the sex was great, fuck a second date, it was nice to know ya
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| A bougie bitch that can’t take the smoke, she ain’t like the odor
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| Fresh off the dopehouse with geekers tweaking off my aroma
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| Fuck your artists, pistol charges, man I got like two of those
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| Better know when it come to them choppers, got quite a few of those, nigga
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| A few of those get me right for the nighttime
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| Getting gone til I see the sunlight shine
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| Yo pick to stay with a pack of bitches, that’s super cold
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| That OG kush and them platinum cookies, I’m stupid blowed
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| So whatcha need out the trunk, cause I got like two of those
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| And when it comes to them choppers, got quite a few of those
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| Nigga
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| I said I’m fresh off my flight, nigga, New York City
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| Had the tool in the club like I’m Shyne and Diddy
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| Said this shit can get ugly like Craig Mack
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| And my niggas in ya crib asking where that bread at?
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| Club Amnesia few bottles, a few shots mayne
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| Live and die in LV, 2pac mayne
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| Thought they had me boxed in, boxed in the corner
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| I guess they didn’t know my momma had me on the corner?
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| All I know is crack rock, crack spots, nigga, crack pots
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| They say hit the dealership and buy the whole lot
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| See I’m irresponsible, I lost the whole top
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| And this shit I’m smoking on, it cost a whole lot
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| Give my niggas 20 grand, shoot up your whole block
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| Catch ya slipping on the porch, knock off ya whole top
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| It’s the world motherfucker, next the universe
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| Counting paper hurt my hand, I need a fuckin nurse
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| It’s Young Jizzle motherfucker, I get it how I live
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| You pussy niggas getting love, there go Gangsta Gibbs
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| Gangsta Gibbs ho
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| Two bitches cooking in the crib ho
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| A quarter kilo and some Kool Aid in the fridge ho
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| Thuggish ruggish black motherfucker in a black lac
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| Black talon knock the letters off a snapback
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| He pushing packages, I think he in the rat pack
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| We got the villa in Anguila, blowing anthrax
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| Mob shit, there really ain’t no speaking about this thing of ours
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| Born and raised up in the G, a nigga beat the odds
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| You see me floating to the crib with a fleet of broads
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| Might wanna fuck in my garage when they see them cars
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| These niggas drop that goofy shit and yeah I’m sure it sold
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| There’s real niggas rapping, there’s only a few of those, nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Twos and Fews , by - Freddie Gibbs. Song from the album Cold Day In Hell, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп